The Flower of the Flock, Volume 2 (of 3)Egan, Pierce
General
The Flower of the Flock, Volume 2 (of 3)
Egan, Pierce
Fiction
Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by the Internet Archive
THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK
By Pierce Egan
In Three Volumes
Vol. II.
London:
Published By W. S. Johnson & Co.
[Illustration: 0005]
FLOWER OF THE FLOCK
CHAPTER I.--SUITORS
And art thou then, fond youth, secure of joy?
Can no reverse thy flattering bliss destroy?
Has treacherous Love no torment yet in store?
Or hast thou never proved his fatal power P
Whence flow’d those tears that late bedew’d thy cheek?
Why sigh’d thy heart as if it strove to break?
Why were the desert rocks invok’d to hear
The plaintive accent of thy sad despair?
Lyttleton.
It was, as we have seen, through, the remarkable and unexpected return
of Colonel Mires to England, and the no less singular circumstance of
the rencontre in the Queen’s Bench, that old Wilton was reinstated in
the position from which years back he had been, by the harsh rigour of
the law, ruthlessly expelled.
As Nathan Gomer had stated to Mr. Grahame, the Colonel not only came
forward to prove the genuineness of his own signature and the integrity
of the document to which it was attached, but he was able to show that a
duplicate existed, to point out the solicitor in whose hands it had been
placed, and to help to refresh this old man’s recollection as to
what had become of that most important paper. The individual thus
suddenly-dragged from his seclusion, had long retired from practice, but
he yet retained many important deeds and documents, to which he had been
attesting witness or a party in some way.
It was, therefore, mainly by Colonel Mires’s instrumentality that Wilton
was once more a man of wealth and position; and, knowing this, the
former felt no scruple in becoming a frequent visitor at Mr. Wilton’s
house.
He had, indeed, a secret motive which impelled him to present himself
pretty constantly at Mr. Wilton’s table.
He had, not unmoved, looked upon the face of Flora Wilton; first in the
courtyard of the Queen’s Prison, and many times since when surrounded by
all those accessories to personal charms which elegant dress and freedom
from anxiety afford.
At first a high degree of admiration was raised in his breast by a
personal beauty of rare excellence, which, at the same time, struck him
as being familiar to him. A glorious star, worshipped in boyhood, since
lost, and now suddenly reappearing in his sphere, which was only too
sparsely studded with orbs of light.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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